The Lonely Dusk
by Galinda with a GAH
Summary: Erik realizes upon young Christine's arrival at the Opera Populaire that she will be the one to save him from his life of solitude. Young Christine finds herself in a world of confusion and passion she knows nothing of.
1. As Angels Did Sleep

The young girl sat idly on the window seat of the empty hospital room. A cold hand clutched her shoulder. She ignored the interruption and continued to watch as the sun set behind the Pyrenees. The rose colored sky glistened reflecting on the snow of the mountains in the distance.

Three months ago nine-year old Christine Daae had moved into the small University town of Pau, in the central Pyrenees of France. For a short time her father had been a music instructor at the Pau University, until he was struck ill.

Hushed voices in the hall alerted Christine as she noticed the hand on her shoulder was now gone.

" No other family?" An elderly mans voice echoed quietly.

"None. There is one option, but I must speak with Miss Daae about it. My late brother's wife lives in Paris. She is the dance mistress for the Opera Populaire. She could take the girl in there. She would have a home, and people to watch over her. There is nothing left for her here. Nothing."

The arrangements were made and within a week Christine was on a train to Paris. She had been told that her father would be buried in a cemetery right outside of Paris next to her mother, Isabelle Des Champs Daae's, grave.

Mother. Christine thought. She had only known her mother for a year. The young woman had left for a voyage to Paris in 1854 to assist a dying cousin. Her death had always been kept a secret from Christine, she never knew how or why her mother had died, and she never asked.

She always imagined her mother and dreamt of her. Her long auburn hair, thick with ringlet curls. Her skin fair and freckled, her eyes icy blue, her voice quiet, like an angel. The young girl clung to her black bag as she fought back tears. She was alone.

Her nursemaid had not even accompanied her on the train to Paris. As though she was happy to be rid of the responsibility.

In the past week Christine had learned how to keep herself company, how to be her one and only companion.

The French countryside passed in a blur, as Christine watched the hills turn to dirt roads, and the dirt roads turn to cobble stone.

She awoke the next morning in Paris and was meant at the station by a young woman with long red hair tied into a neat bun. She wore a long blue dress and a black overcoat and hat.

"Christine Daae. My name is Claire Giry, I will be your new keeper." Claire frowned at the word "keeper," wondering instead if she could have said something less cold. She knew she was in no way her new "mother," but…her thoughts were interrupted as the small girl reached up and took her hand.

"Thank you Madame Giry. I am ready to go now."

Hand in hand Claire led Christine to the carriage, which waited for them. As they arrived at the opera house Claire noticed Christine's small hand had never left hers.

A room full of small girls watched eagerly as their instructor Madame Giry introduced a small, pale girl, with long brown curls. She was quiet and shy as she clung to Madame Giry's hand.

That evening Christine sat with the girls to supper in their dormitories located in the upper levels of the Opera House.

"This is your bed." Madame Giry said, helping Christine place her things in the small chest at the foot of the bed.

That night Christine wept into her white pillow. She was once again, alone. She felt helpless. Climbing from her bed she slipped out of the large room past the rows of sleeping girls. As she emerged from the room she climbed down a flight of wooden stairs and passed a large row of costumes and wigs next to the dressing rooms. She ran blindly down a cold hallway until she collapsed. After an hour of tears Christine had fallen asleep, her small body curled up into a small ball.

Arching his neck in curiosity he realized that the figure he saw was a small girl, sleeping on the floor. Odd, he thought to himself. He lowered his body down quietly using the pipes on the walls for leverage. Like a gargoyle he sat perched on a box of wigs watching the small angel-like creature sleep. He noticed she was shivering, and without hesitation scooped her small body into his arms. Without thinking he crept quietly to the dormitories searching for the empty bed. Upon finding it he realized how foolish he had been to enter the room, and dropped her lightly into the bed and disappeared.


	2. Joseph Buquet Hold Your Tongue

A calm winter sun rose over the Paris Opera House as eight-year old Meg Giry was huddled under her bed covers wishing the sun away. As the daughter of the ballet mistress Meg was expected to be a cut above the other girls in the corps. Training since the age of three, Meg was indeed a prima ballerina in training.

She poked her head out from under the sheets and looked about her curiously. None of the other girls were awake. Effortlessly the small girl swung her legs out of the tangled sheets and tip toed into the hall.

She skidded to an abrupt stop upon hearing footsteps from somewhere above her. Fearlessly Meg followed the footsteps with urgency and made her way through the messes of costumes and wigs. She gave at a small shriek when a large and cold hand seized her wrist. She spun around her long golden curls whipping her attacker's arm. The rough stagehand Joseph Buquet glared down at her. Meg rolled her eyes and jerked her arm away to no avail.

"Let me go!" She squealed trying to run. Buquet yanked her toward him forcing her to follow him back down the hallway.

"You stay out of there Giry. It's not a park this opera house. You girls need to stay away from those things, they're expensive y'know. You can't just go wherever you want." Meg rolled her eyes once again, not at all afraid of the menacing man pulling her through the hall. "Now you stay here!" He said firmly as they reached the door to dormitory. Meg giggled to herself as he stalked off.

"Buquet." A voice growled. He had never been fond of the way that stagehand treated the curious ballet girls. "Someday Buquet." He growled again, disappearing into the depths of the Opera House.

"Nicole, where's Meg?" Nineteen-year old Nicollete DuBois opened her eyes to see Madame Giry standing over her bed, hands on hips.

"I don't know Madame." Nicole sat up irritated by the fact that she was often the person to blame when one of the younger girls ran off. 'She _is_ your daughter…and maybe she feels that gives her the right to…" Nicole stopped herself before she could say anymore. No one ever dared to tell Madame Giry about her daughter. She tossed her long braid from her shoulder preparing to get out of bed. "I'll help you look fo…"

"I'm here mother!" Meg said smiling gleefully as she twirled into the room. Nicole heaved a sigh of relief, leaning back onto her pillow.

"Where have you been?" Madame Giry knelt to her daughter brushing a tangled golden curl from her face. "I had hoped you would show Christine around, she is almost the same age as you dear." Meg nodded her head as she continued to twirl on her dainty bare feet.

"I'll show her now!" Meg danced to the bed near the window. "Mother, she's not here."


	3. Bedtime Stories

"Monsieur Lefevre it is madness how you throw away your money like that. I mean honestly sir, twenty thousand francs a month is not exactly pocket change!" George Louis Oyler sipped his coffee as his companion Giles Lefevre looked across the street at the grand Opera House, his Opera House.

"Oyler," He said turning back to his coffee, "you have no idea the criticisms I receive for my, eh, generosity!" The men snorted loudly, annoying the other customers in the café.

"It's an intriguing story," Oyler said clearing he throat, "but it sounds to me like some bedtime story told to keep the ballet girls from roaming about."

"Partly, and well, I don't want to sound like a child of twelve, but strange things have been happening Oyler." He began to stir his coffee nervously. "Odd things, it has been fifteen years since I came to the opera house and for, let me see, twelve of those fifteen years there has been a presence there, something that can't be explained." Oyler watched wide-eyed, intrigued by his friend's apparent uneasiness.

"Well, what do you expect old man! It's a theatre, a large one at that, I suppose there is something floating around in here that will never be explained! But," he snorted loudly, "that doesn't mean they need twenty thousand francs a month!" The tense atmosphere faded as the men continued to drink their coffee never again mentioning the strange phenomenons of the Opera House.

Madame Giry hurried to the bed followed by Nicole. Christine was nowhere in sight. Instead of appearing annoyed, Madame Giry appeared worried.

"Nicole, you stay here with the other girls, don't alarm them…"

"I'm sure she is just curious about her surroundings." Nicole nodded curious about Madame Giry's apparent nervousness. Her demeanor was odd, and it puzzled and frightened Nicole. Madame Giry excused herself calmly, slamming the door.

"I don't understand," Meg looked at Nicole mystified. "She is probably just exploring…" Nicole nodded reassuringly not wanting Meg to see the confusion and panic in her own eyes.

Claire Giry had sensed something that night, something unexplainable, something from her past, something having to do with the arrival of…

"Christine!" She found the girl wandering down a long, dark corridor at the back of the Opera House, as if she was under a trance. The girl stopped without turning to look at Claire. She inched toward the small figure; her steps were delicate and slow, as if the girl would disappear at any moment.

Madame Giry reached Christine kneeling down in front of her. She was weeping, the poor child was weeping. "I-I, I heard something." She choked on her words, her small voice shaking uncontrollably "A voice…I thought…"

"Christine…" He whispered, knowing he had found her, the one who would share in his loneliness.

Christine's eyes widened and she raised her head unexpectedly.

"What is it Christine?" She followed her blank stare realizing Christine was only a few feet away from the chapel. Someone must have been in there praying, Madame Giry breathed a sigh of relief. The acoustics in the small hollow room were strange, and often times prayers could be heard throughout the backstage area. Madame Giry grabbed her hand tenderly leading her back towards the dormitories. Not noticing the small white envelope which had fallen lightly to the floor.

"Claire, don't be so foolish as to believe it was just her imagination. I have found her Claire, someone to share in my loneliness, someone who has nothing, I have nothing, but now we have each other Claire. You promised to never leave me... but you did Claire you left me to my own darkness. Out of guilt you have returned… See to it that she is given the proper attention and love, she, unlike me, is not the child of the devil, but an angel. My angel.

O.G


	4. Life That is Lived Alone

"Roses for my girls!" The girls squealed in delight as Monsieur Lefevre entered their dressing area bearing an armful of pink roses. Lefevre adored each girl in the ballet corps as if they were his own daughters, and after each performance he would present them all with a single pink rose.

Christine had never felt so much excitement in her life. She had been living at the Opera House for four months and in that time she was able to master the basic skills of ballet. She was in no way ready to follow the elder girls such as Nicole and perform "en Pointe," but she was able to keep up with the younger girls such as Meg on stage.

Lefevre applauded joyously as he handed Christine her rose. "And a special BRAVO! To our new addition! It was magnificent to watch you dance Miss Daae!" He said shaking her hand as if she was a great lady. Christine blushed and curtsied grandly as Monsieur Lefevre kissed her small hand. As Monsieur Lefevre left he placed a large kiss on Madame Giry's cheek.

"You should congratulate yourself on such beauties Madame! Good night

Ladies!" The girls' laughter and squeals echoed throughout the corridors.

"Somebody shut them up!" Buquet said loudly as he swung through the rafters securing the backdrops and fly area for the following day's performance.

Christine's first night in the Opera House had made her wary, but her ballet training had kept her mind and body busy and happy. Music was something special to her, something that could take her away from all the pain she often felt. Dancing to the wonderful music of the opera orchestra had made her feel like an angel in heaven, floating through the clouds.

"Look at this Christine!" Meg giggled as she tried on Katherine, a Pointe dancer's, shoes. "I'm a great lady!" Meg said proudly.

Christine and Meg had become close friends, being the youngest in the corps made them the perfect combination. Meg had even requested that her bed be moved next to Christine's.

The dormitory smelled of roses and exhaustion that evening. By ten o'clock each ballerina had settled into a fulfilling sleep.

Madame Giry wept reading the note she had received on Christine's second day in the Opera House.

"You promised to never leave me...but you did Claire you left me to my own darkness. Out of guilt you have returned… "

"Madameosille Morrisett," A stern voice echoed throughout the dormitory as fifteen-year old Claire Morrisett sat quietly, her head hung."Where have you been? Was I unclear in my announcement that the ballet corps were to be on stage this morning ready for a costume fitting at exactly 7 o' clock? I must have been because now I have a dancer with no costume!" Madame Jaqout's voice had risen has she clutched the young girl's shoulder firmly.

"I-I," Claire knew there was no excuse she could give as to her whereabouts that morning.

"You will not be performing in this opera. Your solos will be given to the Gascout girl. You…you can watch from the wings and assist the girls with their costume changes. If this irresponsibility continues Mademoiselle Morissett we have no choice but to send you home…" Her voice trailed off as she left the room clicking the door firmly.

"Now look what you've gotten me into…" Claire said half to herself, and half to the young boy who had hidden under a neighboring bed upon the Ballet Mistress' entrance.

"But…Claire, I have to eat." The boy said creeping out from under the bed and kneeling next to her.

"I know…but…I promised you a home, a place to live. I can help you still, but only at night. I cannot risk being sent home. My parents are too poor to continue supporting their eldest child along with my four siblings." Claire realized she was blabbering on about matters this boy couldn't possibly care about. "I'm sorry."

"Nights. I will see you nights." The tall and wiry boy slithered out of the room as quickly as he had entered leaving Claire sitting on her bed close to tears.

Four-years later Claire Morrisett had fallen in love with a flute player in the Opera Orchestra named Bernoulli Giry.

He saw her standing there, her beautiful red hair flowing under her large black hat. She was leaving. He knew she was leaving. He had nothing to say to her.

"I am nothing but a sixteen-year old boy with an infatuation." He told himself.

He never forgave her for getting married and leaving him. His first love, his savior, Claire Morissett was dead to him.


End file.
